I Will Break You And I Will Pick Up The Pieces
by FirstSonVergil
Summary: Vergil (DmC) x Dante (DmC), Incest/Twincest. Yaoi, Rape, Force, Blood. The past and present of the twin Sons of Sparda for the time they were apart to finding one another again.
1. Chapter 1

In bored silence he followed behind Kat as she rambled adoringly on about The Order, hands shoved deep in his pockets. She'd been useful when the Hunter Demon had showed and while he initially agreed to go with her, was regretting that decision now. Her voice raked over his sensitive hearing though comprehension eluded him, by choice, his eyes scanning the dark walls and chalk drawings. What a shithole, hidden behind a facade built of thick concrete and steel. He fell a few steps behind the woman, running his fingers across years of dirt caked upon the walls catching something about last line of defense or whatever she was prattling on about now.

The pair continued deeper underground passing by all manner of cameras and computers; all hissing and humming away with humans flicking their fingers across keyboards and shooting him wary glances. Running a gloved hand through his dark hair he glared into the back of Kat's head, his interest lost and patience wearing very thin. They had come to another steel door, looking like all the others, that opened on loud hinges as they approached.

"So where's this boss of yours?" he growled, the bite of metal on metal grating on his nerves. He was about to turn around and tell the pretty thing in which direction she could fuck off.

He inhaled sharply in annoyance but as the woman parted those pretty red lips to answer he went rigid. A scent struck him so hard that he paused all movement and thought, but shrugged it outwardly off to be replaced by an indifferent demeanor. Internally he was alight with fire. His spine tingled and head swam, it was not unpleasant, indeed he felt as if he was almost floating, or really fucking drunk. It was a scent he knew but yet had no memory of, and the heat it brought across his skin was both alluring and concerning. He'd never reacted to anything in such an intense manner, biting down on his tongue to keep from appearing as if anything was amiss.

Grey blue eyes shot through the open doorway in the direction of a lone figure standing in the middle of the large room. The mask from the _terrorist_ on TV sat on a stand and clearly this was whom he'd been brought to see. His gaze hardened; staring at what could have almost been a mirror image. A trick perhaps though he felt no real threat of danger surrounding him.

"Amazing… Dante, it really is you" the figure said, bathed in partial shadow his hands resting on the hilt of a katana. A dark jacket with blue designs wrapped around his body that so mimicked the height and stature of Dante, in contrast to the black jeans and leather coat that hung loosely around his shoulders.

Dante shrugged in annoyance, of course it was him who the fuck else would it be. Who was he to sit in shadow and remind him of who he was. Coward, what did he even want?

The shadowy figure bowed his head slightly, 'You don't remember me." There was a touch of sadness in his tone.

"No." Dante snapped back in irritation.

"How much of your childhood do you remember?"

"Psh, not much. I had meningitis when I was seven – wiped my memory- why?"

"Hah! They told me I had a car accident that resulted in total amnesia. Age: Seven."

"Your point?" Dante was beginning to give in to his rage now, the thought of taking Rebellion out and showing this man he was not to be trifled with all too forefront in his mind. What it would feel like as his blade sliced through that cynical grin and left him choking, drowning as his lungs filled up with blood. The light fading from his eyes as he futilely attempted to cling to life.

"Meningitis is a human affliction. You are not human, Dante." The man in front of him strode forward, and his scent became deeper. Dante felt a rush of blood to his groin and an all too familiar heat rose. He was becoming… _aroused_? His shut his mind down before it could continue, studying the stranger with external indifference. Inside his emotions began to boil and churn, demanding attention from this other being who elicited such a response from him. Now touched with light he could see that aside from the silvery hair he and this other man looked the same, right down to their eyes that smoldered like sapphires.

"All war is fought with deception and you have been deceived. Your past has been hidden from you for a reason."

Snapping in annoyance Dante leaned forward on the balls of his feet pressing a finger to the others chest, "Rewind a bit – who are you again?"

"My name is Vergil. I established The Order to help to find a way to fight the demons."

"Besides swords and bullets you mean?"

"Such weapons can win battles, but not the war. We use force, yes, but we also use intelligence, politics, propaganda." Vergil smiled as he strode around like a preening peacock. Least he was taking his scent with him, though not entirely.

"You really believe you can make a dent?" Dante sneered, he felt sorry for him, Vergil, and Kat. He was delusional? That made three of them.

Vergil was incredulous, "Make a dent? With the two of us working together, I believe that we can defeat them!"

"So that's what this is about," now he understood why he was standing twelve feet underground, "You need me to fight the demons, help you _save_ the world."

"What else were you planning on doing with your life?"

What a prick, he didn't know a damn thing about him save for his name and that accounted for so little.

"Well you guys do seem really nice, but I'm more of a loner type: trust issues, work alone –That kind of thing."

"Dante, I don't think you understand what is at stake." Kat piped up moving forward, concerned, but she was silenced as Vergil held up his hand.

"If you want to leave – turn your back on me, I'm powerless to stop you. But you'll be making a grave mistake. Not just for yourself, but for mankind."

"For mankind!?"

"Yes!"

"What makes you think I give a shit?"

Vergil paused a moment, his expression unreadable, "At least give me a chance to show you."

"Show me what?"

"Who you really are."


	2. Chapter 2

Riding in the back of the car Dante sat brooding, unable to take his eyes off Vergil. The other man sat in silence, katana across his lap seemingly in blissful ignorance to the turmoil of the one behind him. Struggling within him were desires of all natures. He was curious, if he were being honest. His memories were non-existent save for what he made after turning seven and the offer to reclaim part of who he was had better be worth what he was going through now.

All his life, that he could recall, he felt different. He knew he held power beyond a normal human and had long stopped questioning its origins. Agility, speed, power, healing these were all things he had been able to count on in his life, and as he got older some new weaponry. It had startled him at first, when he found he could summon Rebellion at will, and how much of an extension of his being it was. It was not just some sword, it was a part of him, somehow.

And then there were the darker parts of his life he never would share or admit to another soul. The voice inside his head that would sometimes take hold and not release him until its desire had been sated. The claws and fangs that would unleash in his darkest moments. And that tick, that itch in his groin, never satisfied and increasingly rearing its head when it would be least welcome.

Like now, sitting in the back of a rumbling vehicle and staring at the back of the silverette's head. Blood pounded in his ears as he adjusted his jeans for the tenth time, snorting in annoyance. He could still smell Vergil, why he didn't know, but something about that scent made him want it, wanted to control it, have it, own it. Maybe he was delusional.

Vergil's eyes remained closed as he listened to Dante breathing in the back seat of the car. The ride was silent save for the roar of the engine and the squeal of tortured tires as Kat drove them further from town. He wanted to show Dante the house they were raised in, hoped it awakened in him half of what it had done to himself. Dante was aroused, Vergil could smell it, could almost hear the blood pulsing through Dante's body as he squirmed behind him. His fingers closed tighter around the sheath of Yamato exhaling slowly, holding his composure, he was always the more controlled of the two. That did not stop arousal from gripping his loins and flooding him with heat in a primal response. Soon enough he would know if this whole charade would be worth it.

The trio pulled up to a gate, Paradise written in iron above it and opening to a vast mansion that had long since been abandoned. Dante begrudgingly followed them inside though immediately wished he'd kept his mouth shut instead of asking what concoction Kat was using to paint a symbol on the floor. Standing over it he watched Vergil extend his arms towards the house.

"Go ahead. This house holds secrets. I've found mine. Now it's your turn."

"How will I get back?"

"We'll take care of that. Just be careful, it can get rough in there."

"I like it rough."

Dante was swallowed by the rift, entering limbo and the version of his apparent childhood home that existed between the worlds. Shaking out his arms he pressed forward, whatever he was going to find, he wanted to find quickly. He had missed the almost smile that painted Vergil's lips as he was consumed by the gateway.

 _Of course you like it rough dear brother…_

Vergil watched as his twin was engulfed by the rift and wandered down the hallway, his thoughts interrupted by Kat as she rubbed her arm.

"Is this really going to work? He doesn't seem to care."

"He's raw. Just like you were when I first found you."

The half demon turned to go outside, his thoughts racing along with his heartbeat. What-if's thrashing around in his mind as a storm of doubt caused an ache in his stomach. Canting his head towards the sky he rested Yamato on the ground and folded his hands neatly atop allowing himself a brief moment of regret. It had been a gift, Yamato, from his father, their father, Sparda, and he loved the weapon and all the power and promise it held. Gentle footsteps behind him brought him from his thoughts momentarily.

"Go back to headquarters, Kat."

"But what about…" Vergil cut her off spinning on his heel to look at her with red rimmed eyes.

"Do not be here when Dante returns." His voice was ice cold, laced with hidden intentions.

Kat stared at her normally calm leader, stunned into silence at his brash tone. Maybe it was an effect of the house but she knew better then to argue. Side-stepping the taller male with her gaze lowered she made haste towards the car. The tires screamed in protest as they spun in the dirt finally getting purchase and speeding her far away from the mansion, and the two men. She didn't know what happened, or what was going to happen, but she hoped she'd see them both again.

Vergil ran a gloved hand through his silver locks feeling the wind caress his skin as the sun beat down on the earth. He allowed himself a moment of respite exhaling sharply as he awaited the return of the other male to ease the knot growing in his gut. If he was right, and smiling inwardly he knew he almost always was, Dante would come looking for a fight. Nimble fingers gracefully withdrew Yamato from its sheath allowing the sunlight to dance off the metal that seemed to shimmer with life. The blade was perfect, flawless, and Vergil coveted the weapon above all else.

 _Liar_.

Snorting with annoyance Vergil silenced the voice in his head moving to stand just outside the ruined home awaiting the return of the dark haired Dante.


	3. Chapter 3

Dante slid across the rift feeling the world reclaim him while the cold tendrils of limbo desperately tried to wrench him back. Every sense was heightened as he held himself low to the ground panting softly, his skin tingled and every noise grated upon his ears. His eyes were wild, tinted red, wandering until he could focus them upon the other male, giving no thought to the loss of the psychic. There in the entranceway stood Vergil his face unreadable, his body unmoving for he was waiting and watching the other. Dante rose to his full height slowly allowing Rebellion's edge fall to the ground echoing a hallow sound in the vast hall. His chest was tight trying to process all that had just happened, all that he had just re-learned. Fingers rose to his chest grasping onto the blood red pendant that lay over his heart, something he had since he was a child, the stone warm against his fingertips.

"You're my brother."

"Your twin brother. I've been looking for you for a long time now."

The elder took a step towards Dante a hand into his coat and withdrawing his own pendant that shone with blue brilliance.

"Our mother gave these to us. I think…"

Dante hauled Rebellion across the floor gouging the tile and silencing Vergil midsentence. His eyes flashed as he pointed the weapon at his brother, free hand ripping away at the collar of his coat to reveal a scarred shoulder.

"And this!?" He hissed through clenched teeth; fingertips gently running over the old wound. It had long since healed but never faded, looking like a bite mark from something not entirely human. The edges were sharp and it was evident the source had torn deep into muscle to create the scar.

"That, I gave you." It was barely a whisper across Vergil's lips his eyes roving over the mark, tracing it, memorizing it. His tongue darted across his lips as his mind wandered to what it would be like to sink his teeth into that shoulder once more. He stepped forward ignoring the blade pointed at him far more interested in his brother than his safety.

The elder twin reached a hand to his own collar pulling down the black fabric to bare his shoulder to Dante. The faintest of lines marred the skin, nothing at all like the wound his twin suffered. It looked… incomplete.

Dante's fury was evident in eyes that danced with emotion though his features remained hard. The younger twin cried out and lunged forward with his sword, arcing towards Vergil in a devastating blow. Rage boiled inside the dark haired brother and he wanted nothing more than to bathe Vergil in his own blood.

The mark on his shoulder had always ached, burned, and pulsed unpleasantly. Something Dante had learned to live with, having forgotten the source when he lost the rest of his childhood memories. Now he knew, he remembered, he could feel it being made over and over as he lashed out at his mirror image. Steel rang against steel the two struggling for dominance.

Years of anger and pain, ignorance and enlightenment, feeling distant and yet accepted. Instability let loose in raw steel and labored breath. Dante was fast and powerful; Vergil was faster and clever. The two landed blows that drew blood, tore through clothing, skin, and muscle; some healing as quickly as they were made while others bled crimson life into the ground.

Vergil matched the onslaught knowing it was not himself that Dante wished to destroy, rage was his knee jerk reaction to the flood of knowledge that came to him within these walls. It had been a lot to take in, when contrasted with reality of everything that had transpired since that fateful night.

Closing the distance the two Sparda twins collided, blades crossed, almost nose to nose. Vergil radiating calm despite the twisted smile tugging at his lips, Dante full of rage with teeth bared. They circled one another in a vicious shoving match neither gaining anything against the solid mass that was their twin.

"You only found me when it served The Order's purpose." Dante spat out blood upon the others cheek.

"I found you as soon as I could."

"You didn't even come yourself."

"You never would have come with me."

Dante howled shoving the elder back a few paces and holding his ground.

"We belong together, Dante." Vergil's voice dripped with intensity his blue eyes becoming rimmed with red.

Dante faltered, the words making his heart ache for how he wanted to tell his brother the same, his pride not allowing it. The elder man seized the window he was offered and lunged forward pressing their bodies together. With a hiss he fisted the younger's hair in his palm jerking his head back and forced their lips together.

Dante tried to protest but the hold on his hair was too strong, the scent of his brother too good, his body too tired to fight any longer. Vergil's mouth upon his own was cold and tasted of blood, and masculinity, and Vergil's scent was making his head swim once more. He let loose a subtle moan into the kiss, allowing his eyes to fall shut and accept the moment. It was everything he wanted, he needed, Rebellion slipping from his hand to clatter upon the floor. He clung to Vergil fisting into his jacket and fighting with his lips to deepen the kiss.

Vergil withdrew slowly; letting his brothers head fall back though his own lips tingled at the loss of the warmth. He'd spent years looking for Dante knowing no other could match the force that was his brother. The crash of thunder at his back made him embrace his brother possessively as if mother nature herself might try to pry him away once more.

"Come with me brother, lets go home."


	4. Chapter 4

Blue-grey eyes snapped open, instantly awake, a low growl caressing his ears and sending a shiver down his spine. Pushing himself from the concrete floor the young boy matched it with a warning hiss of his own. The corner he'd claimed was in the far recesses of the demonic orphanage, his memories of anything prior to this living nightmare erased. His skin itched and though his eyes couldn't pick out detail he watched shapes move through the inky darkness towards him. He stood with his back to the wall small hands balled into fists as he matched the growling low in his throat.

A torn shirt hung loosely from his frame catching on the rough surface of the building, the boy feeling as if even his clothing wanted to force him to its bidding. His pants were ragged and dirty, feet bare, and the only other thing he owned was around his neck. A pendant of red that was his most treasured possession given to him by his mother. Where was she? He couldn't remember her face. He couldn't remember anything, besides waking up one day surrounded by children and demon alike.

The orphanage was in the slums of the city, surrounded by brick and metal fencing, and beyond nothing but crime and violence. Some days you couldn't discern where the screaming was coming from; outside the walls, or within. Orphanages were by reputation no place anyone wanted to be, this one least of all. Run by ruthless demons that used and abused unwanted children by the hundreds. No one was ever adopted from this hell hole, and no one ever left, not even the bodies. Behind the building was nothing more than a mass grave filled with the corpses of those who'd lost their fights or given up.

The dark haired boy learned quickly that the beatings were by far the most pleasant thing he could look forward to on any given day. He still nursed a black eye and torn skin that was slowly mending. As days dragged on he was witness to the darker horrors, bloodletting, sacrifice, rape, torture, starvation, experimentation. He'd seen other children beat one another to death to escape this prison.

He was different from them, the other children here, something he couldn't quite place, but all his senses and reflexes were faster, better. He healed more quickly and could take more of a beating, probably why he was becoming a favorite plaything. He could stand the most suffering before passing out, a fact which was being put to the test every day now.

He continued to press his back into the wall, moving to face the shadows head on, the exhaustion within him countered as adrenaline coursed through his veins. Though the vision through one eye was still blurry he knew the outline of this demon and his blood ran cold causing him to shiver. His vision went white as blinding pain ripped through his thigh and blood poured down his leg but he recovered quickly and shifted his weight to his good leg. The boy bit into his lip to stifle a cry refusing to give the satisfaction to his attacker as he braced for another advance. His eyes could now discern the unholy form before him as a serpentine tongue licked his blood of its damning claw, enjoying the boy's life essence far too much.

It filled the youngster with rage, and something in him finally snapped. His eyes briefly rimmed with red willing his entire body forward. He was fast, but the demon was faster catching him in the side with a blow that knocked the wind from his chest and shattered bone. As his lungs screamed for air he choked and gagged feeling ribs grate at every motion. Broken, again, the thought brushed his mind briefly before he leapt into the air avoiding a dark tail as it snaked towards him. He brought his feet down on the lengthy appendage rewarded with a hiss from the demon but victory was not his. The muscular length was ripped out from under him knocking the thin form to the ground and causing new waves of pain to pulse through his body.

The demon was above him now, breath smelling of sulfur and death and he turned his head away in disgust. Small fists began to beat into whatever he could reach but his strength ebbed with every second. Then it came, he knew it would, in a flurry of violence and impulsiveness the demon lashed out at him with abandon. Claws tore into the skin and brutal blows shattered bone and tore muscle.

His vision faded in and out while he was beaten; the pool of blood against his back growing cold but the relentless attack wore on. He lifted his arms to his chest trying to ward off direct hits but the demon overpowered him easily. He tried to move clawing at the concrete floor but his fingers found no purchase in the blood slick. He could taste it in his mouth gagging and choking on the very liquid that was his life. It was by willpower alone he remained clinging to consciousness while his limp body was dragged from the cold floor and held in front of the monster. How he wanted to rip the beating heart of the demon from its chest, listen to it scream and writhe as he punished it for every injustice he'd ever faced, but he could only hang there in silence.

Blood roared in his ears with every beat of his heart and above it the demon seemed to be mocking him, chuckling softly as he continued attempts to lift his head or throw out a lash of defiance. Beyond that there were mute screams from other floors of this hellhole and the soft trickle of blood as it fell to the ground.

His clothes were nothing but rags to begin with and now only scraps of fabric clung weakly to the raven haired boys body now stained the same color as the amulet he wore. He could feel darkness seeping through him and his grasp on consciousness becoming less and less tangible though he clung to it with ferocity despite the reprieve it would bring.

The demon lowered his battered body to the ground and ripped the last shreds of fabric that clung wetly to his skin. He knew what was going to happen, like a bad dream he'd avoided this cruelty longer than anyone before him. His legs were spread roughly while the disgusting scent of demon arousal assaulted his nose. The boy shut his eyes tightly wishing this was not going to happen to him perhaps it was truly a nightmare, though he braced himself the onslaught.

His scream at being penetrated pierced through the thick walls and could be heard half a block away. It left his throat raw from the force with which is had been ripped from his soul. He could feel his body betray and yield unwantingly to the demon's advances, and warm liquid dripped from the new wound. An old wound on his shoulder burned with ferocity like acid under his skin but he bit back his screams; rebellious even in anguish. The slap of scale against flesh drowned out all else as he let his grasp on the mortal world slip away, wishing for the reprieve of death.

Vergil had never been a heavy sleeper however the scream that cut through the night would've woken the dead; it chilled his very soul for the sound was barely human. He sat upright immediately though sleep still brushed the edges of his mind, but another anguished howl echoed out and he bolted to the source. He cursed himself under his breath feeling sure they hadn't been followed, he'd never felt a demon's presence anywhere near his own personal home.

Adrenaline surged through him, grabbing Yamato as he slipped from his room, crashing through the door to his brother. His ice blue eyes tinged with red; braced for a fight in the early morning hours but Dante was alone; still in his bed though he screamed out again, his hands ripping at nothinginess.

Vergil approached silently as a cat dropping his beloved blade to the ground and slipping next to his brother. Strong arms encircled the younger and he pulled Dante to his chest running a hand through the raven locks.

"Dante wake up, I'm here."

The dark haired twin shuddered at the touch, panting, his entire body tense and trembling, covered in cold sweat that had soaked the sheets beneath him. Vergil's face was lined with concern, confusion, having never suffered from nightmares himself he couldn't imagine what visions could manifest into such a psychical reaction. He knew he had to pull Dante back into the waking world and patted the younger's cheek lightly brushing his lips against his ear.

"Wake up Dante, it's not real. I'm here, don't be scared."

Dante's eyes snapped open laced with fear and pain his body screaming at him that it could feel skin being torn open again. Something warm was holding him and fingers pulled through his raven locks. It wasn't a dream. Those miserable demons had found him and wanted their plaything back. He snarled though clench teeth and tried to shove the demon away from him foaming at the mouth in anguish at the cycle being repeated.

Recognition relaxed the younger's features while the two stared silently at one another, the elder thrilling that his twin let him hold him like this. He never stilled the fingers running through dark locks dipping his hand now and then to massage the nape of Dante's neck. Gingerly he brushed fingertips against the edge of the bite mark upon the youngers shoulder. A smile tugged at the corner of the silverette's mouth as Dante's breathing slowed and returned to normal, his heart no longer racing.

"Cold…" Dante's voice was barely a whisper his body still trembling slightly. Reluctantly Vergil detangled himself from his twin to stand, pressing a soft palm to his cheek. Without hesitation Dante leaned his head into the gesture and Vergil trailed a thumb across the glistening skin.

"I'll start a shower for you."

He could see relief soften Dante's features, even in the dark, and moved silently to the bathroom. Moonlight filtered in through the skylight so he didn't bother with additional illumination, reaching to turn the hot water on. Steam slowly began to swirl about his ankles the moisture lapping at his skin pleasantly. His mind wandered aching to ask the other what he saw that caused him to cry out but knowing it would probably be met with nothing more then silence.

He adjusted the water temperature to something he hoped would be comfortable and helped Dante to his feet, steady hands holding him close. His brother was refusing to meet his gaze but he paid it no mind fearing if he pressed his twin would only retreat further. Offering a gentle smile he followed his desire running fingertips through the damp raven locks before withdrawing.

"Come to my room when you're done."

The silverette back away slowly leaving Dante to shower in peace, but he left the door open a few inches behind him. He moved to the bedside turning on the small table lamp to provide some illumination. The sheets were thrown in all directions and soaked through with sweat that smelled of both Dante and fear. The mattress itself was damp and Vergil stripped it down wrapping the wet sheets in his arms.

 _Don't let him sleep alone._

Snorting at the voice that felt the need to express what he was already thinking Vergil shot a glance over his shoulder to the bathroom. _Obviously_ he mused.

Vergil left the sheets in the hall, retrieved Yamato from where he'd discarded her, and moved back to his own room flicking on a lamp to rummage through his clothing. He pulled out a pair of clean boxers and red shirt he'd never worn finding it reminded him too much of his brother but also unable to get rid of the garment. He was pleased he'd kept it now and placed the folded clothing at the foot if his bed. He took a moment to run a soft cloth across his beloved weapons edge before sheathing Yamato and leaning her against the wall close by. He had surprised himself by how easily he'd discarded her to the floor upon seeing Dante in anguish, perhaps it was a good thing, he did care deeply for his twin.

Vergil slipped back into his own bed, pulling the opposite corner back for when Dante was ready, and fell into the pages of one of his books. It was written in an old demonic dialect and he struggled with some of the grammar but at least it provided a focus for his wandering thoughts. His ears caught the sound of the shower turning off and footsteps wandering around but they came closer and Vergil found himself holding his breath. He exhaled as Dante came into his room rivulets of water dripping from his hair and down onto his sculpted chest. Vergil noted the subtle differences between them for Dante was stockier and perhaps a half inch shorter, but very much like himself, wrapped only in a towel.

Without hesitation Dante grabbed the clothing that had been laid out for him and turned his back on Vergil. The elder's eyes roved over his back and noted even the differences even in the sigils that were ingrained into both their backs. He took a deep breath and cast his gaze downward out of respect for his brother though his darker thoughts wanted to immortalize that naked backside.

Both remained silent as Dante climbed into bed beside his brother, turning so that his back was to Vergil; still so closed off. Frustrated by the silence of the younger he choked back the questions running through his mind and closed his book, shutting off the light. Dante had come wordlessly and willing back into his brother's bed and that thought stifled the rest; Vergil allowing that to be enough for now. Sinking into the caress of silk he grabbed Dante's shoulder and pulled the youngers body against his own, pleased he was met with no resistance.

Brushing his lips across Dante's ear Vergil whispered to him while fingertips massaged his nape and shoulders.

"Sleep brother, I'm here now."

The elder twin didn't know how long after his brother drifted off that sleep found him but the mere presence of Dante next to him, in his arms, breathing evenly was the sweetest lullaby he'd ever heard. He knew, as encroaching darkness washed over his consciousness, that he would not be sated sleeping alone again and would never share his bed with another.


	5. Chapter 5

Silence was the first thing to wash over him and it was deafening, blue eyes snapping open instantly at the quiet that surrounded him. He pushed the edges of sleep out of his mind and inhaled slowly taking in the quiet and warmth that enveloped him. Blue silk sheets clung to him but so did… _Vergil._ His brothers arm wound over his side and he could feel warm breath against his back instantly dragging his memories back to childhood. Vergil was always his protector even in sleep and each morning he was in the elders embrace. Dante gingerly brushed a hand against the scar on his neck feeling emotion knot in his gut, how many years had he lost with his brother.

The breath against his skin stilled for a moment replaced with cool lips and kisses placed along his spine.

"We have time now." Vergil's voice was soft and groggy muffled in the embrace but it brought a smile to Dante's lips. It used to irritate him when they were young how his brother always seemed to know what he was thinking, sometimes even before he'd formed it into coherent thought, but at this moment it was comforting. Some things remained the same.

"You still have nightmares."

Dante's whole body tensed at the words, they chilled him to his core, as an involuntary shudder ripped through him. Instinctively he pulled his knees up trying to curl into a ball but Vergil moved with him, strong arms encircling his chest and pulling Dante against him. The younger's eyes went wild lashing across everything and nothing at the same time. His vision blurred as he fell into the recesses of his mind, twisting and swirling in depths of emotion that clawed greedily at his sanity. Like lighting in his psyche cool lips brushed his temple and brought him back to his brother's bed, his embrace, a rivulet of sweat falling across the bridge of his nose.

"My nightmares came after…"

"You were four, that's when we started sharing the same bed."

"I never had nightmares then."

Dante arched his back detangling himself from his twin unable to look at him, grasping the wall for support as he headed towards the bathroom. Had he seen the stunned look across Vergil's normally unreadable features he probably would've laughed, had some snarky retort, but this morning it wasn't in him. There were so many things he still wanted answers to and he guessed Vergil might as well.

Vergil sat up and watched him go, the words resonating through his mind. He would imagine it was how Dante felt when he'd taken him to their home, but part of him admired the brilliance that his younger sometimes showed. The realization, if he was to believe the other, that nightmares were not the reason for seeking him out late at night meant it was for the very reason Vergil had never denied him. He'd wanted to sleep next to him, wrapped I each other's embrace. The thought warmed him to his soul, but like a fire being snuffed out the feeling was replaced with dread.

The nightmares were real now, the implications staggering. With a groan the silverette rubbed his face in his hands, he had to know, but prodding the younger had never ended well.

Vergil stared into the depths of his coffee cup listening to Dante moved around upstairs. Normally filled with patience he was bouncing a foot in trepidation of what the morning and indeed the next few days would bring. He had his brother back but there was scarring that went far beyond the one on his twins face, and it burned in him to know everything about his past and the time they'd spent apart.

He'd cleaned his plate and was nibbling on some dry toast when his younger finally met him at the kitchen table, the scent of soap and birchwood trailing with him. Wordlessly Dante pulled out a chair and poured himself a cup of coffee from the carafe drinking the black liquid down and pouring another. This time he added a touch of cream and leaned back regarding Vergil as if he'd never seen him before.

"Breakfast?" The elder twin asked calmly looking over the rim of his mug as he took a sip.

"Yeah."

Vergil rose to his feet collecting his empty plate to return to the stove. He'd kept the food warm for the other, piling the china high. There was hardly much left so he took a small helping for himself, least they could eat together, and settled back down at the table. Dante's demeanor was self-assured as he wolfed down his food but now and then Vergil's trained eye would catch the twitch of a muscle, or the darkening of his brothers eyes, minute tells that beyond his exterior lay something else.

Dante tossed his fork down on his empty plate and pushed back in the chair leaning on two legs and slowly rocking back and forth. One knee braced against the kitchen table for balance and he looked around fully taking in his surroundings. Everything about Vergil's personal home was lavish and decadent. Nothing overly superfluous but there was nothing to indicate he'd not grown up in a life full of riches. China in the cabinets, silk in his bed, clearly the furniture was polished and expensive, as was the endless array of books and tech that he surrounded himself with. The unease crept back with a vengeance.

"Brother, I want to know." Vergil's eyes bore into his kin's, this was a conversation they both needed.

Dante's whole demeanor changed as he threw up walls around himself, his eyes darkening, his features twisting.

"Not much to tell, never had any parents around so I did what I had to. Ended up living down by the pier."

Vergil knew he was lying by omission and wanted to grab his twin by the shirt and shake him. Whatever he was hiding from it was clearly shredding Dante's sanity little by little and the silverette would be damned if he would watch him fall into madness. Rising to his feet he made no demands, beckoning his twin to the sofa instead. If he was going to be lied to by his own blood he was least going to be comfortable.

Dante followed settling onto the furniture beside his twin neither able to look at the other. Vergil moved first, annoyance driving him to grab his brother's shirt; twisting the fabric in his hands. The raven haired twin tensed and tried to pull away but he was insistent pulling Dante into his lap and reclining on the plush sofa. He wrapped his arms around the younger and held him petting his hair and neck. If last night had taught him anything it was the same gestures that soothed Dante when they were kids worked even better now.

Dante jerked in surprise as Vergil grabbed his shirt but once he realized what was happening he relaxed letting his brother pull him down. Fingers went immediately into his hair and lavished soft touches across his neck, the effect was instant. Despite his desire not to give in to such affections he couldn't stop himself from burying his face against Vergil's neck and inhaling the heady scent of his twin.

"Brother, tell me."

Dante growled softly and pressed his mouth against his brother's collar bone raking his fangs against the tender skin in warning. He didn't wish to remember, or tell.

The older twin glared down upon his raven haired mirror in growing annoyance, stubborn as always. He'd gingerly broached the subject but he'd come to his wits end, watching his brother suffer alone when he was willing and wanting to share whatever burden weighed so heavily upon him. Vergil exhaled slowly lifting Dante's chin and brushing his lips against his brothers, as the gesture was returned he grasped the younger's jaw in his palm and swiftly but violently bore down into the scar on his shoulder. He could hear his twin gasp in surprise, inhaling sharply as his fangs and teeth slipped beyond the barrier of skin and lodged deep into muscle and sinew. He sucked lightly letting Dante's blood fill his mouth and spill from his lips, metallic and sweet. It was better then he remembered and though he could feel his younger wrenching in his grasp he held firm and swallowed, tongue lapping at the wound so it wouldn't immediately heal.

He would never tire of this intimate yet brutal _kiss_ and gulped mouthfuls before withdrawing, falling into the cushions, dragging Dante with him. The liquid settled on his tongue, dripped down his chin and his throat but more than that it held his brothers essence and memories. He was only vaguely aware that his twin had stilled completely as flashes began to warp his mind. Memories of them as kids though he pushed quickly into more present times. The visions he saw made him gag, spilling the crimson life across his chest, for he could see his brother and the things he endured.

He saw everything as if it were happening to him, could feel every tear of flesh and every drop of blood as it ebbed away from him. The claws, the scents, the pain, never could he have imagined the horrors that Dante did so well to keep hidden. Vergil clung to hope when the raven haired boy escaped, but more pursued him and kept him caged, beat him, and tortured him. What had his brother endured…


	6. Chapter 6

He hated sleep, hated what it did to his mind, pulling forth every memory of his time in the demon orphanage. He would keep exhaustion at bay for days before he could run from himself no longer and had to give in. His eyelids heavy the boy wrapped his arms around himself and let it envelope him though a single tear stained his cheek.

The nightmares came almost instantly and though he hadn't seen the inside of those cursed walls for almost two years they claimed him in sleep. He could see his tormentors coming one by one deriving their twisted pleasure from his body over and over; a relentless parade of sulpher, scale, blood, sweat, and semen.

Starling awake his eyes danced over the store room noting all the shelves and boxes were as he'd left them, nothing out of place to suggest the visions in his mind were real. He shivered despite himself feeling his clothes stick to his sweat slicked skin drawing him further into the waking world. He hated sleep.

Unable to stop himself his mind wandered back to the orphanage and he tried to piece together what had happened that night. They'd come for him again, hissing and growling and smelling of arousal and rotten eggs. He'd been unaware of the devil arm that lived inside him, a gift from his father Sparda, but that night something inside him snapped his back arched and all his fury poured into the blade. He'd known at once how to wield it and caught his attacker in the neck its thick black blood arcing into the air as it fell howling and clutching at the wound.

He'd struck fast and hard shoving the blade between the scaled monster's ribs watching its dark eye regard him with surprise and anger. It couldn't match his own and he twisted the sword within its heart mercilessly, the same way he'd been attacked all those times. He relished in the pain now that the tables were turned and would've brought the thing back so he could kill it again had he possessed that type of power.

He never stopped to look back grabbing a pair of pants as his bare feet slapped against the floor. The new found sword an extension of his own arm as he slashed his way through the orphanage and out into the streets. He'd been covered in blood, some his own, most not, and nobody had approach the young boy with red-rimmed eyes.

He'd spent the first few days putting as much distance between himself and that place as he could, stealing what he needed along the way. The nights were spent trying to ward off sleep, and re-summon the blade. He hadn't been sure what caused its manifestation in the first place and subsequent tries were failing. He could feel it there below his skin calling to him in such a way that he knew its name and whom had entrusted it to him. Since that night he'd been unable to call it forth by his own will and it aggravated him to no end.

A noise outside the storeroom brought him to his feet and he reached for the door knob twisting it and glancing outside. He could smell the demon before he saw him but there outside rummaging through a pallet was some lesser creature. His blood surged with excitement for the boy loved killing demons and took every opportunity to engage in his addiction.

Brushing a hand through raven locks he kicked the door open and leapt at the smaller demon wrapped his gloves hands around its neck and forcing its body to the ground. He clutched with all his might staring heatedly into the black eyes of the monster. The boy sneered down at his prey feeling bone crumble under his fingertips.

The body fell limp in his grasp and he tossed it aside like garbage, for that's all he saw. Something littering this city that needed to be taken care of. His blood surged at the carnage having killed with his bare hands he failed to notice another demon, this one taking the form of a large human, behind him. His vision blurred at the sudden sharp pain to the back of his skull as he fell forward to the floor out cold.

He didn't know how long he'd been there, chains cutting into his wrists holding him upright. He's struggled against them for what felt like days listening to the same voices over and over. The walls were dirty subway tile, fluorescent lights overheard, concrete floor, smelling of must, dirt, and decay. The room was bare save for a single chair and a radiator against the wall in front of him underneath a large one-way mirror. The voice always came from a speaker to his right, a camera above it watching his every move.

"Young Offenders Rehabilitation Program: Subject 64432B. Psycho evaluation treatment, day thirteen, resume."

"What is your name?"

Thirteen days? He couldn't begin to fathom the length of time, his face was bruised and bloody, the beatings here much like in the orphanage. His frame was thin and every bone was visible and yet he defied them. His blue-grey eyes regarding the one way mirror with unbridled fury. They'd pumped him full of drugs, tortured him, beaten him, chained him to the ceiling and left him for days. But they always came back to the same question.

"I will ask you again; What is your name!?'

The boy ran his tongue across his lips, letting the metallic taste of blood sit in his mouth. The voice grated on his every nerve like electricity being ran through him. Thirteen days? Two weeks, every fiber of his body ached and screamed in protest of being chained like an animal his gut aching from starvation. The black haired boy decided he was going to get free or die trying; either way seemed like a good option. Lifting his head slightly he regarded the mirror with red-rimmed eyes and pulled on his bonds. He tore through skin and sinew on his wrists slickening the chains that held him but remained silent to his assessor.

Rusty hinges behind him signaled his door being opened and he was on high alert tossing a glance back behind him. It was one of the male _nurses_ approaching with venom in his gaze and syringe in his hand.

"Always fucking up aren't you."

The man sneered down at the boy now standing in front of him reaching out a hand to grasp the red pendant that hung loosely around his neck. A disgusted snort came from the boy and he struggled harder against his bonds trying to jerk his head and amulet away from the psychotic bastard. The man just yanked it from around his neck lifting it to his face for inspection.

"I'll be taking this as payment for having to put up…"

The man never finished his sentence the boy having yanked the chains free from the ceiling in a startling crash of tile and metal. The itch on his back once more becoming tangible as the blade that was inside him, part of him, manifested. Slick fingers wrapped around her hilt and he'd shoved the blade deep into the man's skull. The boy regarded the stunned expression in the dying light of the man's gaze plucking his amulet free from his fingers.

"My name is Dante."

The boy hissed and withdrew his weapon letting the body crumple to the floor. Shoving his pendant into his pocket he swung Rebellion at the mirror shattering the glass and sending splinters in all directions. The chains around his wrists forgotten as he dashed through the opening finding the small room empty through it stunk of demons. Sprinting forward he threw open the door and down the hallway as alarms blared around him. Without hesitation and despite not knowing where he was he surged forward spotting a window at the end of another hallway. He could hear doors being thrown open and footsteps behind him screaming that he was not to escape. He caught one demon in the eye, another he severed her head as he dashed down the hall. Blood and gore was all that was left in his wake, covering his face with his arm he leapt through the glass.

The feeling of falling was fleeting, twisting his body like a cat and landing roughly on his feet. The sun staggered him for a moment but he regained his footing and surveyed his surroundings. Lesser demons began to manifest from the very ground he stood upon and Dante pressed forward. Cutting down anything in his path and he ran, he ran through streets and alleys, jumping over cars and fences, going vertical he clamored to the rooftops and didn't stop until he could move no more.

Sweat poured from every pore and his lungs pleaded for air as he sucked in mouthfuls of it. His heart was pounding and adrenaline surged through him ruthlessly keeping him on his feet. The sun was beginning to set when he finally stopped to regarded where he was. His feet had taken him to the outskirts of town to where sand and trees and water met, there seemed to be nobody around in any direction.

He took a step towards the water his dry mouth begging for a taste of the clear liquid but the sound of metal dragging stopped him. A feral snarl echoed in his chest as he slashed at the binding the still hung from his wrist, Rebellion seeming to purr at him once more when he was free. Afraid he'd lose the weapon again he set her down on the soft bank and regarded himself.

Haggard would've been a compliment shoving a hand through his reflection to drink the cool water. He vowed to kill every demon, everywhere, and hatred boiled in his veins.


	7. Chapter 7

St. Lamia's Orphanage, the sign read in blocky letters that were holding on to their post by the will of a few rusty bolts. Rebellion at his back, Ebony & Ivory in his hands, Dante stood before the place of misery and seethed. The ground beneath his boots shrunk back from unchecked fury, pebbles and rocks shattering with the force of power he radiated. A heavy step forward, then another, growls, hisses, screams, begging it all came from the building before him. A flash to his left, Ivory sang as bullets ripped through demon hide, snarl to his right for Ebony to join chorus in flashes of recoil. Blue eyes filled with murderous intent as he kicked open the door.

Muzzle flashes lit the dim halls as he cleared the entry unceremoniously shoving his prized guns away to draw his blade forth. He was going to bathe in blood. Crouching down he lept through the glass doors back into the depths of the depraved prison, hacking and slashing through bodies and forms without hesitation. Blood sang in his veins, pounding in his temples, and driving him insane with the high. For all that had happened to him, mind and body, behind these walls they would all pay.

They came in waves trying to rush him, but the hallway provided them no escape from the blade that sang through the air. Demons and humans alike were dispatched with ruthless efficiency, his emotions running too hot to discern between those he might've saved and those who'd been born of Hell. In the end they would all die out of vengeance and mercy.

He cleared room after room, moved his way up to the top floor and down again, but faltered upon entering the basement. There was only a handful left, snarling and whining in the darkness but he knew this place better than any other. A heavy step forward and Rebellion suddenly felt heavy in his grasp, the edge dropping to the concrete floor and embedding in the surface. His eyes narrowed leaving his blade by the door and retrieving his pistols from their holsters. Movement behind him caught his attention, hiking into the air and raining down a barrage of bullets into the enemy. It died with a hiss and he whirled upon the few remaining, dispatching them in a symphony of muzzle flash and gunpowder.

All was silent and his arms hung at his sides in reprieve his shoulders sagging with his mood. The single lamp overhead swung slowly back and forth casting long shadows across the expanse but he could see it. The concrete stained in the middle of the floor, he could scent it, beyond the burning of demon flesh, gunpowder, and black blood. Part of him still remained in this hell hole, his blood having soaked into the pores of the foundation never to be released. It was here he'd been _hurt._ Spitting on the ground he couldn't bring himself to even think the words, but a smile touched the corner of his lips.

He turned and retrieved Rebellion, knocking over anything in his path as he made his way outside. The sun hung low in the sky and Dante felt it begin to dry his clothes that were steeped in demon blood, the fabric shrinking and sticking to his skin. Before leaving he pulled a cigarette from his pocket to place against his lips, striking a match against the brick exterior to light it. The smoke filled his lungs and soothed his blood that still pounded within him, fingertips grasped the lighted stick and tossed it through the shattered glass of a front window and flame leapt at the closest object. He remained rooted to his spot as the inferno raged and built itself, engulfing the scattered destruction Dante had left. A perfect path of flammable items had been left, and the flames that licked at interior danced over each object devouring it. Windows shattered outwards with the intensity of the heat and finally Dante could move. His boots were heavy but he turned his back on the dying building as relief touched his soul.

The young man watched from a rooftop as flames leapt to the sky, unable to be contained by the flailing streams of water that attempted to extinguish it. The sun had long set and was rising once more before Dante could leave it alone, the smoldering pile of rubble that was his first taste of suffering, now nothing more than ash.


	8. Chapter 8

Dante felt a moment of relief as Vergil had brushed their lips together believing the subject dropped for now. He didn't catch the predatory look in those blue eyes and startled when his flesh was torn open. He expected it to bring forth all the terrible memories of his youth but instead it filled him with warmth, even as his blood was drained away. He could feel every brush of lips and tongue against his shoulder, keeping the wound from sealing but welcomed it with an eagerness he couldn't place. Had it been anyone else they would have died with his blood upon their lips but he let his brother take what he wanted. His body reacted in ways he had not expected, writhing in the strong arms aching for touch and friction for he felt as if he were on fire.

Unaware of the visions dancing in the elders head he was annoyed by the loss of the warmth and fog crept through his mind. He felt curiously sated in a way he never had before, stilling in Vergil's arms as they lay on the couch. He couldn't even lift his head as his brother coughed, scarlet liquid bathing his chest. The twins lay silently together, one blissfully at peace for the first time in a decade, one filled with uncontrollable rage.

Dante's eyes closed and sleep enveloped his mind the blood in his veins pounding rhythmically that eased him into unconsciousness. His breathing became soft and shallow and strands of dark hair fell across his face, he did not dream.

Vergil was in shock; visions, pictures, and memories clashing through his mind though instinctively he held his brother closer. His eyes had lost their telltale ice color and were glowing as red as the blood splashed across his lips. The sanguine fluid in him raged and burned; prickling his skin from the inside out. Loathing and anger were turned outwards as much as in for the older demon twin.

He chastised himself mentally, berating and howling that Sparda should never have separated them, hating him for leaving Dante in such a place. He had to have known what would befall his youngest son, and Vergil also hated himself. He had been brought into foster care by wealthy parents who did their best to lavish all things upon their _son_ , and indeed the elder twin flourished. By the time he was in his teens he'd written codes for corporations and was on his own worth millions. It was how he'd funded 'The Order' and now it felt so empty.

His brother, his twin, the only other being he'd ever loved had been out there enduring a life Vergil wished only upon Mundus. He blamed himself for not realizing why he was so different from everyone else, delving into literature about demons and the Underworld until he began to remember who he was. Maybe if he'd found out sooner, found Dante sooner, he was supposed to look out for him, protect him.

Beyond that, his heart ached in his chest that the mark he'd left so long ago did nothing to ward off the assault of others. That was his fault, no demon would dare approach a marked one if their presence could be felt and Vergil couldn't even remember where he was during those dark times for his twin.

Minutes turned into hours and still Vergil silently seethed, the blood upon his lips having dried and cracked, but Dante still slept. It was his only salvation right now, and the only thing keeping him rooted to his spot. He wanted to kill, maim, torture anything that moved, it was better he not be around others, he knew deep in the recesses of his mind the anger coursing through held complete indifference if his target was human or demon.

Rage like that is consuming, he knew, how long Dante had been under its influence was staggering. The thought pulled him from his own inner dialogue of self misery and he regarded his sleeping twin in new light. Stubborn, loud, proud, lewd Dante, and the strength he must possess to have as few mental scars as he did. Vergil admired that, he'd never tell him though.

 _Blood. My blood… I'm bleeding._ Iridescent eyes flew open with a silent snarl set upon his lips the sight before him bare skin and scarlet. It was not his skin for his palm rested upon the chiseled chest that was not his own, the scarlet had dried but that scented of him. Dante blinked slowly as he shoved confusion away and remembered where he was and whom the pale flesh belonged to. Fingers flecked off the dried blood and rubbed the smoothed skin slowly, so different but so familiar. He felt rejuvenated unaware of how long he'd been asleep but it was without dreams and restored his energy.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Vergil voice was strained as he tried to keep himself in check.

Dante leaned his head back to look into his twin's eyes.

"Tell you what Vergil?"

"Why didn't you tell me about… I know what your nightmares are."

"How?"

Vergil touched a finger to his lips wetting the blood that remained rubbing it between his fingertips before his kin's eyes. Even before they could fully walk they knew they could pull memories from the sanguine fluid of the other, Nephilim physiology maybe, maybe it was a twin thing.

" _Blood."_

The word fell across Dante's lips and he chastised himself to think his brother wanted to renew the bite, no he just wanted to pry into his head. Feeling betrayed all over he shoved roughly at his twin and sat up, furious he'd been taken advantage of. _Again._

Vergil rose with the younger and reached out to grab his arm, he hadn't wanted to find out this way but his twin had shut him out. Guilt coursed through his heart for he could see the look of hurt in Dante's eyes, but more so because he hadn't been there to protect his twin.

The raven haired brother grabbed Vergil's wrist and twisted, he didn't want to be touched. He could see pain flash instantly through those ice blue orbs but no sound echoed its existence.

"Don't fucking touch me Vergil."

"Dante, take mine. See if I am as terrible as you believe me to be."

It was a whisper but the elders eyes looked down to his appendage that hung limply in his brother's grasp. Maybe if Dante could take all his memories it would calm him, a trade of sorts. He knew his life did not measure up to his brothers but it was the only thing he could think to offer his enraged twin. Jerked forward and off balance he fell into the couch his arm twisted behind him. He didn't flinch as his shoulder was bared, fangs sinking deep into his pale skin.

Vergil accepted the pain, he knew it would come but was shaken by the fury with which it was delivered. Dante twisted and licked at the wound tearing into his flesh so easily, like a rabid animal that hadn't been fed. It was somehow comforting to feel the younger take some of his aggression out, even if it was on him. He'd let him take his life if it meant he'd be alright.

Vaguely thoughts brushed his mind wondering if Dante knew what he'd just done by wounding him in the same place he had begun as a child. This however was not slow, or romantic, this was rage and contempt unleashed. In some ways it broke the silverettes heart, he'd yearned for his twin for so long and only wrath was upon him. The bond was not completed; he still had to win back his brother.

The blood was hot and coppery upon Dante's tongue and he reveled in the way his teeth ripped into skin, sinew, and muscle. His teeth were one of his first weapons and he'd used them viciously, now was no different. The emotion welling in his heart drove him to greed and he ripped and tore snarling like a caged animal. After a few agonizing moments he drank, pulling the crimson onto his tongue and down his throat. It tasted so much of his brother. He'd many a time tasted his own but it was never so sublime, the way it prickled on his tongue and slipped down his throat was more addicting then anything he'd ever known.

He slowed long after the elder began to turn pale not even noticing the changes to his brother, the labored breathing, the dullness that crept into his eyes. It was too much and he wanted it all. His vision went white and his thoughts became muddled he wasn't sure where he was or what he was doing. Every muscle in his body stilled but he watched visions, no memories, as if he were watching a film. It wasn't him, this wasn't his reality, but he was in it, as a child and there was… _Vergil._


	9. Chapter 9

They played, fought, and loved each other as all brothers do but for the demon twins everything was heightened. Vergil found his younger brother to be the most irritating and wonderful thing he'd ever known. Always the more collected of the two the silverette admired in silence the way Dante was so wild. For as long as he could remember despite their spats he'd always needed to be close to him. Initially he assumed it was a sense of duty as the older of the twins but even he didn't fully believe it.

It was raining hard one night, the wind howled outside and the stone walls creaked in protest while flashes of light danced upon the walls. He wondered what Dante was doing, if he was able to sleep through the racket. His thoughts were interrupted as his door creaked open and shut, a lithe form moving through the blackness to his bed and crawled in bedside him. Vergil knew it was Dante and rolled over to wrap his arms around the other boy.

"I'm here, don't be scared."

He felt his younger press his back against him and entwine their legs together. Nuzzling into Dante's neck he breathed in the scent of his twin and felt completely at peace despite the weather. He fought off sleep until the sound of even breathing reached his ears knowing the other had slipped to dreams in his embrace. Placing a chaste kiss upon his brother's bare neck the elder allowed darkness to consume him.

It was like that some nights, when storms would rage outside he'd stay awake until Dante slipped into his room. He'd wait anxiously for his twin to come, pulling him tightly against his chest as they both drifted to sleep. Days that brought the promise of rain were when Vergil was the happiest, for he knew he'd have Dante for the night as well.

Warmth pressed against his side and it startled the silverette awake, rubbing sleep from his eyes while a groping hand touched the source. Warm and soft, he forcefully shoved the fogginess from his mind for he knew that scent. Without hesitation or other thought Vergil pulled the heavy covers over the two of them and gripped his younger twin possessively.

"Dante? Are you alright?"

"Bad dream."

"What about?"

When he received no answer he wanted to press again but the warmth from his brother seeped into his very bones and dragged him back towards slumber.

"I'm here, don't be scared."

He smiled into the nape of his younger brother's neck feeling him press against him harder. He luxuriated in the fact he was with him, running fingers tenderly across his chest and petting him until Dante fell asleep, following suit shortly after.

The nightmares seemed to be getting worse, Dante's visits to his bed becoming more and more frequent and while he preferred sleeping with him, he was worried about the cause of his brother's insomnia. The following night Vergil had made up his mind, despite their separate quarters they were not going to be apart anymore. He grabbed Dante's hand before he could go to his room, instead leading him to his own bed.

"I'm here, don't be scared."

Again he felt like he was being the protective older brother, like he should, but beyond that he wanted to sleep with Dante in his arms. He wanted to wake with their skin touching, he wanted his twin, always. He returned the smile his younger brother gave him, pulling back the covers and snuggling in together. Limbs entwining he kissed Dante's skin before closing his eyes. Vergil held on to him through the night, and Dante did not wake.

Maybe it was the wind rustling a little too loudly through the trees, or perhaps it was the clock downstairs striking the current hour, whatever it was Vergil was awake. Wide awake, his ice blue eyes glaring at the inky darkness in the room. He could smell sulfur and a tension in the air, like electricity waiting to spark. Instinct kicked into high gear as he sat up straining to see anything through his window that would give a hint to what he was feeling. Panic began to well inside him that he couldn't place but a soft noise beside him brought his full attention back to his slumbering twin.

 _Dante. Dante something isn't right… Something, someone is here. What if they take you away? I can smell them, they're so angry. They want us, no they want you… me?… No, you're mine. I'm here, don't be scared. Dante. DANTE!_

His thoughts were a blur though he was silently screaming inside his own mind and not aware he'd pulled his twin into his lap. He parted his jaws and sank his fangs into the junction of neck and shoulder feeling Dante's blood fill his mouth.

 _Mine, you're mine. You will always be mine._

Vergil heard his younger gasp and scream as he wounded him, marked him, claimed him. He wasn't even aware of the significance, running on pure adrenaline and instinct, more demon than human. Drawing back he looked deep into his younger brother's eyes and saw confusion and desire. Canting his head he opened the invitation for Dante to do the same, aching for it. Relief shook him as the raven haired boy took action, pressing teeth into his skin slowly at first, but harder and harder, he could feel his skin begin to part from the bite.

"Sparda! They've found us they're here!" Eva's voice was strained and rang through the halls, Vergil could hear footsteps approaching.

"I'm here, don't be scared."

The wound deepened pressing into the muscle beneath and Vergil clung to his brother tightly. He could almost feel his brother's emotions, and brush against his thoughts. As quickly as the feeling rose it vanished for the door to his room had been thrown open and Eva rushed to them. She didn't even seem aware of the blood still dripping from the corners of her eldest's mouth, probably for the better.

When he finally laid eyes upon Mundus the silverette was not afraid, least not for himself. He and Dante remained hidden but watched in horror as Eva gave her last breath, the last beat of her heart, to keep them safe. Dante thrashed in his arms as he held his brother tightly, a hand clamped over his mouth to stifle any screams. He wanted vengeance as much as the other but knew they would be no match for this intruder. Their mothers death would not be in vain so he kept Dante still and quiet.

The demons finally departed, spreading out to search for them, and their father. Sparda hugged him, and Dante, tightly taking their hands leading them into town. Then it all went black.


	10. Chapter 10

Vergil listened to his foster parents talk in hushed whispers; they had no idea how useless their attempt at quiet conversation was. It was about him, it was always about him. How bright he was, how he was going to do great things and change the world, and how he was so detached. They bickered quietly about his personality and intelligence, if they were doing the right things with him, for him. His mother sounded hurt that he wasn't affectionate with her, his father touting how he was always polite and well behaved, they were doing something right.

The silverette tugged at his hair in annoyance at the conversation, he was never going to be their perfect son, he didn't know if he was anyone's perfect son. Memories of his real father and mother were hazy at best. Hands trailed down to his neck grasping the cord that held a blue gem against his chest. His mother, his real one, _Eva_ … She had given it to him, the only memento he had of his early childhood. He tried to remember her face, muddled in with distant memories that seemed almost like someone else's life. There was his mother, Eva, and his father, Sparda and something else, someone else that was out of his reach. Feeling the rough cord against his palms he noted the faint scar on his left shoulder aching to remember where it had come from.

He didn't recall much before he was seven, having suffered a car accident at that age. He was in a coma the told him, had recovered physically though his memories were gone. Total amnesia from head trauma, it sounded plausible he didn't really have basis to argue the fact, and still there was always something nagging in his mind. As if his current reality wasn't everything it seemed. He assumed that's where his scar had come from; then again it looked more like a bite mark of something not entirely human.

The faint blemish on his shoulder radiated warmth as he tried to piece what was missing from his scattered memories. It always nudged for his attention when he was deep in thought and the silverette believed it to be related to whatever he sought so hard to discover, as opposed to his accident. Perhaps it was an answer to himself, why he was like he was, why he felt like such an outcast.

He knew he was not like other children, certainly not like his parents. Where cuts and scrapes on the schoolyard were common his flesh was flawless, save for his shoulder. Beyond that his mental capacity was also beyond those of his peers. He'd graduated high school by age ten and began to work on his own programs, writing and selling them to willing buyers. He dove into books that even his parents couldn't understand and his room was adorned with pages and pages of scripture. It was his solace to pour over manuscripts of coding, history, and his guilty pleasure the demonic Underworld.

Without the desire for further schooling he'd retreated into himself during his teens; continuing to sell programs to those with enough money and amassing a wealth of his own. He moved out, hugging his foster parents goodbye, and into a penthouse he'd bought with his own money. A security algorithm sold to the largest corporation in the city had made him a multi-millionaire and still there was emptiness in his life.

Vergil sat at his desk, letting his eyes fall closed, three massive digital displays all working algorithms, numbers, and processes. His mind swam with dormant memories finally unleashed. The pages of his book written in demonic dialect had triggered something as he skimmed the pages. Faster and faster his eyes darted over the words a voice shrieking in his head as he fervently tried to see what had been hidden from him.

In a flash he was consumed, breath tightening in his chest for he saw himself as a child, and his parents, and his _brother_. The mark on his neck pulsed with every beat of his heart as blood pounded in his ears. They were a family together, living in ignorance, himself and his twin brother… _Dante._

He remembered everything; clawing through memories as if he might drown in them, aching to find where his twin might be. There was only darkness, Sparda had wiped his memory, and he was not human. Gripping the edge of his desk with white knuckles he stood and staggered slowly to his bed. Falling into the comforter it did nothing to soothe a burning deep in his veins.

He was unique, he was one of two Nephilim, and the other was lost. Probably just as blissfully unaware as he had been for over a decade, but why separate them? He would've taken care of his brother; he ached to do it now. Grunting and growling in annoyance the elder twin fisted the sheets, burying his head into the pillow. He bit into the fabric tearing it with sharp canines trying to slow the waves of memories that flooded him.

He needed to know more, he knew what he was now but there was a nagging sensation of emptiness that lingered. Exhaustion crept into his body as his mind raced over every detail that had been so expertly taken from him. He shuddered involuntarily as the last moments of that dreadful night played through. The knowledge he'd gained pouring through scripture allowed deeper understanding of what he was seeing, in the moments before he was ripped away from everything he'd ever known.

He was sensitive to demonic presence which is what had truly awoken him that tragic night, his primal instincts driving him to take what he felt was his. He'd held Dante in his arms and claimed him not only as a brother, but as a possession, a lover, and a mate. Pressing his body harder into the bed Vergil moaned as he realized what he'd done and why he was never fulfilled. Dante was out there somewhere, he would find him, he vowed with everything he was he would be re-united with his twin.

It had been weeks since Vergil's awakening, when his memories were returned and the sentiment was bittersweet. He'd spent countless hours and dollars looking for his twin but without an idea of where to start it was akin to searching for his shadow. As he placed out feelers into every nook and cranny his senses began to hone, the scenery began to change. Walking down the street wrapped tightly in his dress coat it seemed darker, the hairs on his neck standing on end when people would pass.

Little by little he began to see the city he was living in, and indeed the world, for what it was. Slowly begin strangled by demonic presence there were followers and spotters on every corner. He could pick them out a mile away now, black tears streaking down their faces, features twisted in horror. It was his inner demon that allowed him such observance, for the humans wandered on blissfully unaware of their enslavement.

Mundus, the Demon King of the Underworld was at the head of it all, protected by a Hell Gate and ruling through any means necessary. Vergil's understanding grew clearer and clearer each day as he watched humanity slip into a dreamlike submissive state. It burned in his mind how the Demon King had torn his family apart, murdered his mother, imprisoned his father, and his brother was lost to him. He would have his revenge, with Dante, but the silverette needed to find him.

Using his limitless resources Vergil gathered a group of acquaintances who like him could sense something amiss everywhere they turned. The group grew, with it a name, he called it 'The Order' and worked together with those he deemed worthy to begin to fight back against Mundus' order. Inserting chaos with precise strikes he bled knowledge from both databases and bodies alike.

He was making great strides in pulling more and more to his cause, hiding his face behind a mask and taking over the air waves to send out his messages. He could never be sure what Mundus knew of his existence but he wasn't going to offer up anything, so he kept himself hidden. The rain outside caused him to look up from his computer and regard the weather with disdain. It caused his shoulder to thrum with heat and his heart to break a little more. Without thinking his eyes moved towards the door to his study, willing and wanting his mirror to come through and into his embrace, just like when they were young. Snarling Vergil backhanded the books and papers from his desk in anger, there was still no sign of his twin. It tore at him wondering if he was alone somewhere, craving his touch as much as Vergil yearned for his.

A tone brought him slowly back to his surroundings, releasing balled up fists and rolling his shoulders to relive the tension. His eyes lashed over the screen and he stilled, breath caught in his throat at the words reflecting in his blue eyes. _Dante son of Sparda._ Fingers flew over his keyboard with inhuman speed as he traced its origin, somewhere someone knew where his brother was. He poured over records over the destroyed orphanage and police files but the younger twin had vanished. _Hellfire Prison._

"Fuck!"

Vergil paced back and forth, Hellfire Prison was a demon prison, nobody had ever escaped and worse, it was in limbo itself. He couldn't get there on his own despite his power, and even if he could get there how would he get them out? Days went by and the silverette did not sleep, did not eat, fueled by the knowledge he was close, and getting closer. One of his followers had mentioned a girl, Kat, that seemed to be able to find rifts into limbo, had spent time there. She would help him, he would offer no choice.

He'd spent weeks planning it out, making sure she was in the right place at the right time, along with some well placed explosives at a giveaway for one of Mundus' creations, Virility Soda. Lobotomy in a can. She'd fallen into the inferno that raged and Vergil ensured he was caught on surveillance speaking to her before police arrived, vanishing before he himself was caught.

She was taken to the police station and placed in a holding cell, and he'd slipped in to offer up an option. She could locate rifts into limbo, and he needed such a location inside Hellfire Prison. Help him and he'd _save_ her, deny him and she could rot in her cell indefinitely, aiding a terrorist was frowned upon.

She had taken his offer; of course, it was the only logical choice. Though the journey had been tough and had gone according to plan he'd gotten in only to find that his brother had managed to escape. The only person to have ever done so in thousands of years, Vergil was both amused and infuriated, of course his twin had broken free, he should not have expected less. The trip had not been all for loss, Kat had proven she was useful as a medium and psychic, having pulled a wealth of knowledge from the prison itself before they escaped. He'd had to use his Devil Trigger, giving in to his darker side and relishing in the power it provided, but they had returned to the mortal world.

Armed with the location of his brother he sent Kat to retrieve him, the blood in his veins singing with anticipation.


End file.
